


Holding on to Time

by LinneanSpora314



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinneanSpora314/pseuds/LinneanSpora314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime early season 1 (before all the suspicions were aroused and secrets were unleashed), it is a beautiful morning and the flash team decide to go on a mini-break outdoors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding on to Time

The site where the particle accelerator used to be was an awesome edifice, since its days of heady glory its interiors may have deteriorated and its value significantly depreciated, but from the outside it would continue to cast a mesmerising, awe-inspiring shadow - a shadow of its former self. Two figures were seen loitering near the barbed wire gates. The shorter of the two appeared particularly talkative that morning, with every remark he seemed to exude wit and charm, tossing his long dark hair from side to side, and moulding his unconventionally attractive features into an expression of perpetual bemusement. 

“Cisco, can you please just be quiet for one moment?” His long-suffering young female friend informed him curtly, staring out through huge bewildered eyes. Her radiant tresses glinted in the sunlight, and though her lips betrayed traces of a smile, there was something darker, and fearsome in her eyes, that spoke of some unspeakable burden that she could not and would not share with even her closest friends. 

For Cisco and Caitlin, as they stood there gazing out into the entrance, like the countless times they had stood there since they had begun working at S.T.A.R Labs, there was a mutual sense that they had finally found normality, for the first time in a long time since that fateful day of the accelerator explosion.

A sleek black van skidded to a halt two meters away from them. And suddenly they were reminded that nowadays normality had a slightly modified meaning. 

The driver made no attempt to exit the car however, instead, he motioned to Caitlin and Cisco to enter the vehicle. The two loyally obliged. Caitlin in the back, and Cisco, clambering in the front, pulled his seatbelt across in one swift action. Taking out a packet of gum he turned toward the driver, and asked gleefully: “Want some?”

The driver, who was clad in a close-fitting black jacket, peered at Cisco somewhat disbelievingly from behind the shady rims of his glasses, and politely declined his offer: “No thank you, Cisco.” In the rear-view mirror, Caitlin’s eyes threatened to widen even more. It was only when the car murmured contentedly into life once more, that Caitlin found herself relaxing a little, enough to begin to take in her surroundings. 

Just in front of her, with one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel, and the other the gear stick, was the familiar sight of Dr Harrison Wells - her boss, mentor, and more recently, her friend. Reclining a little in his seat, he was strapped to his wheelchair, which was in turn fixed in place to the floor of the van. Silently, she observed the dexterity of his fingers as he spun the steering wheel this way and that, directing the obedient car across the winding country roads. 

At that moment Caitlin realised that with every setback there was a solution, there would be modifications and there would be adjustments, but as her dear mentor had once reminded her, “you’d be surprised what you could get used to”. For life itself… relentless as it is, would go on. Even without Ronnie. Even for Ronnie…

“Where’s Barry? He’s late.” Said Dr Wells, bringing Caitlin out of her reverie. Cisco tugged on his seatbelt, and offered only a shrug. Caitlin sighed, assuring them: “I’m sure he’ll catch us up!”

Harrison glanced out of the window, and made a mental note to have a stern word or two with Barry, when he turns up eventually, if he turns up at all. Gently, he turned the steering wheel, and the van rounded the next corner. Suddenly a blaze of light transcended his bespectacled vision. The indistinctive features of a masked figure in a red suit flashed a broad grin at Harrison though the half-open window. In less time than it took for Caitlin to utter “Jesus, Barry!”, the masked figure was already sat beside her, still grinning from ear to ear.

To the outside observer, for a fraction of a second the van had veered off to one side of the road - the one and only clue of Barry’s sudden and reckless entrance.

“And what time do you call this, Mr Allen? You’re five minutes late!” Said a voice from the front, in a rather stern tone. 

“Oh I’m sorry Dr Wells, I just had to save a couple of people from a burning building, ’tis all…” Said the Flash, feigning nonchalance. 

“I hope you haven’t smoked my suit again! The other two are still down for repairs!” Cisco began. Caitlin interrupted him: “Barry! You can’t wear that out in public, you’ll have to change into something more appropriate, and less…conspicuous. And don’t expect us to wait…” She trailed off. 

For it would appear that in the intervening period, Mr Barry Allen aka The Flash had already pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a pale blue checkered shirt, and was in the process of finger combing his hair.

“But where did you get the clothes from?” Caitlin inquired.

Barry looked sheepishly in the direction of Dr Wells, and admitted: “Well, Dr Wells always lets me keep a set in his car, you know, for emergencies…”

The driver looked up briefly at his rear-view mirror, and curled his lips approvingly. 

For the rest of their journey, Barry then proceeded to debrief his fellow passengers on the virtues of his activities that day. If they had not known better, the torrent of tale tales he had unleashed upon them could well have been ripped off some low-budget superhero movie. Barry’s breathless account drew a number of worried looks and the occasional sharp intakes of breath from the driver, who had otherwise listened motionlessly, offering few words of feedback. If truth be told, Harrison Wells was not at all amused by the cavalier attitude with which his speedy ward had embraced his newly-acquired skills. The Flash, Harrison reiterated to himself, must be kept safe at all costs. And all the voices of reason inside his own head agreed with him heartedly. 

Before him, the dusty tarmac led to a small clearing. He parked the van carefully and toggled the switch to release the tail gate of his van. The passengers obligingly slipped out one by one. Out of the corner of his eye, Harrison could see that they were waiting for him outside. He did not like to be on the receiving end of sympathetic looks from the team, but right now he had little choice. 

The ramp whirled its way slowly to the ground, and the automatic doors parted up and out of the way to reveal a spacious opening. Gingerly, he glanced over his shoulders, and rolled his wheelchair backwards and out of the vehicle. His protegés were patiently assembled outside, ready to heed his every word and to attend to his every need as he wheeled out to join them.

They were on the outskirts of the city, on a rare and well-deserved break from the giddy unpredictability of their usual routines. Once the idea was first proposed (by Caitlin, who had recently diagnosed the team as suffering from over-exhaustion), it was as though the City’s powerful criminals agreed together to call a truce, and even Joe was allowed a day off. 

Right now, Barry imagined, Joe was probably still up in the master bedroom, snoring contentedly into the feathery interiors of his pillows. 

Even the heavens obliged by breaking into a beautiful day, and floods of sunshine spilled over the hilltops, full of hope and promise. A narrow winding path followed the gentle curvature of the river, which the quartet proceeded to take.

Barry led the way, doing his best to clear any large branches and obstacles from the path, for Harrison’s sake of course, and Caitlin followed two steps behind. The two of them were arguing about something inaudibly. It was that kind of confrontation that often came between siblings, that came out of nowhere, and would lead to nowhere, jarring, but ultimately friendly. 

With one hand resting across his lap and the other hovering gently over the joystick controller, Harrison could not make out all the words from his vantage point some way behind them. Very probably, Caitlin was offering Barry some medical advice that he (once again) was refusing to heed. Harrison turned his attention instead to Cisco, who loyally kept pace by his side. 

“Tell me Cisco, when was the last time you called your parents?” Harrison asked during a pause in the conversation, tilting his head a little upwards hoping to make eye contact with his young companion. 

Cisco started a little, keeping his gaze firmly to the ground, and digging his feet deeper into the soil. “Can we not talk about that now. Please?” He pleaded.

Harrison shot him a questioning glare, the full force of which diffused only by the lenses of his glasses. “… Caitlin did tell you they called the lab asking if you were going home for your father’s 60th?” 

“Why does it matter?” Cisco mumbled. “Dante will be there, what more do they want?”

They carried on in silence, indulging in an awkward stillness interrupted only by the faint humming of Harrison’s wheelchair. 

A few moments later Harrison came to a halt. He leaned forwards in his chair, cautiously taking hold of Cisco’s arm, he said: “Well Cisco, if ever you feel the need to talk, I’m here for you.”

Cisco nodded, his lips trembling a little, and moved closer to Dr Wells. Sometimes he could scarcely believe that here he was, standing beside the scientistic whom he had idolised, the man who had given him a job, encouraged his talents, and who had for so long had kept faith in him. He could not help but feel an unnerving sense of gratitude that Destiny had something to do with it.

“Guys!” Shouted Barry, pointing to a delicious patch of unblemished grass on the riverbank. “How about here?” 

“I am willing to trust your instincts Mr Allen.” Said Harrison, quickening his pace. He smiled as he approached the bank of the river, where Barry had already laid down the checkered table cloth, the platefuls of sandwiches, and other assorted items of tasty goodness. Cisco was busy on all fours, pouring out the cloudy lemonade into strange goblet shaped cocktail glasses. As his wheelchair came to a stop, Cisco looked anxiously over at Caitlin, who in turn shot a nervous glance at Barry, who understood immediately.

“Dr Wells, did you want to…?” said Barry, turning his head discretely in the direction of the burgeoning picnic cloth. 

Harrison nodded, and marvelled at how perceptive the young man was. Leaning further forwards in his chair, he used his hands to lift both legs off the footrest of his wheelchair. For the next step he would surely need Barry’s help. Placing an arm around his shoulder, he allowed Barry to lift him out of the chair and tentatively to an upright position. His legs swayed precariously beneath him as he succumbed to Barry’s firm and assuring grasp. 

Carefully, the young man lowered Harrison down to the floor, guiding him until he was able to reach the ground with his own hands, and did not let go until he could manoeuvre himself into a seated posture. Harrison shifted his legs into a more comfortable position, and whispered softly: “Thanks, Barry.” Before either of them had time to dwell on the gesture, a glass of fresh lemonade was thrust into his hand. And the conversation had already moved swiftly on to the closeness of Barry’s “friendship” with Iris.

Sometime later as they sat there by the beautiful tranquility of a turquoise river, munching away at humous-infused carrot sticks, Harrison sunk into a rather reflective mood. Gazing enviously at Barry, he found himself advising: “always be grateful of the simplest things Mr Allen, like the scent of dew, the softness of the grass beneath your feet... or the wind in your face as you run.”

Bowing his head, Harrison glanced down forlornly at his motionless feet, at the glaring whiteness of the rims of his shoes. Oh how he yearned to run again, to feel that electricity cursing through his veins, but he try as he must, he could not outrun the will of Time… Barry gave him a reassuring pat on the back. And Harrison looked up to see three concerned faces gazing back at him. 

Those were his guys, his handpicked crew, his team! Between them at that moment though no words were exchanged, there passed a sentiment of genuine concern and mutual understanding that had little need for the embellishment of language. The universe, he concluded, did not conform to the feeble conservation laws of theoretical physics; for though somethings are lost — and here, there, a star extinguished, many many more things were gained.

Harrison Wells, or whomever he used to be, or whomever he will become, was sure of only one thing. 

Right now, he was content. 

Right now, he was home.


End file.
